


Scorched Earth

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Sith Culture, cursing, i guess, so much cursing, the life and times of non-main characters xD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14453913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: In the days after the Korriban Incursion instructor Sar has a lot of time to think.He deals with that about as well as he ever does with anything.





	Scorched Earth

 

 

The aftermath of the incursion is ugly in more ways than one. Their ancestral burial grounds have been bombed to pieces and the academy is no better off. The Chambers of the Dark Council have been desecrated by the unworthy.

It’s a mess.

Sar will put it down to that that they haven’t executed him on the spot. To add insult to injury, after making his choices, facing the damned Jedi down as he should and scrapping himself back out of the ruins, leaving half of his limbs behind, _this_ is how they decide to torture him to death.

“You miserable traitor! You cowardly slime, you dare-“ They make him listen to _Harkun_. If he had any say in the matter he wouldn’t scrub his boots on the bastard’s hide.

 _He’s one to talk. It’s not like he died in the attack, either._ ~~~~

Sar doesn’t say it aloud. Responding now will make hours of stoicism a moot point. It’s not like his _survival_ is the problem, at any rate. The problem is that he’s done his damned duty and no one will see it that way.

 _Couldn’t they have sent someone else? Anyone else? Someone with a better grasp of psychological warfare?_ Or with some creativity when it comes to insults, at least. This is a joke. Sar’s pretty sure the Force is laughing at him.

Harkun abruptly falls silent. _Sweet reprieve._ Bloody void, but the man likes to hear himself talk.

Seconds become minutes until finally Sar is tempted into stealing a glance. Maybe his ‘interrogator’ has finally switched tactics.

 

He hasn’t. Harkun is gone. The sight that greets him makes his stomach churn in something uncomfortably close to shame.

He never did like looking weak in front of his students. No matter how long they’ve been out the door a part of him sees them as that. This one has more than found his own way and still Sar can’t shake the habit.

“Darth Nox. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Yare watches him from the other side of the force field, expression unreadable. So the little shit had finally managed to keep from projecting every single thing he felt, had he? Despite the circumstances Sar almost smiles.

_Probably about to tear my throat out but whatever, right?_

There’s nothing but the hum of the energy field. He grits his teeth and doesn’t fidget. This clusterfuck is uncomfortable enough without compounding his own humiliation. He'd stand but he's missing a few essential parts to manage that.

At long last the Twi’lek says what’s on his mind and it’s exactly what Sar was waiting for and not at all what he expected. “Why?” His voice is soft, no accusation in sight. “You never coddled _us_. Why did you bar your students from the front lines, _Overseer_?”

It’s the title that does it. The subtle emphasis, laced with a hint of viciousness. Sar will deny to his dying day (probably tomorrow, by execution) that it makes him flinch.

He’s guilty and he knows it. He should have given them the chance to prove their mettle or die, die like Sith.

Instead they’re shamed but alive, and since they were under orders that shame is all his to pay for.

“I didn’t _coddle_ them.”

“Then what were you doing?” Nox' disbelief is as unforgiving as a night on Hoth. Sar takes the shiver it sends down his spine as the accomplishment it is.

“Do you really think it would’ve made a difference to the invasion force how many acolytes they faced? That they were ready to fight Jedi?” He musters the imposing figure his former pupil cuts these days. He doesn’t say, _were you, when you were their age?_ Some things don’t need to be put out there. If you don't say them no one feels forced to tear your head off to prove themselves.

Nox shifts ever so slightly. _Point taken, I see_. “It was their duty.”

“Yes, it was.”

That earns him a raised eyebrow.

Sar lets his head fall back against the containment field. The buzzing is unpleasant but not actively harmful. Yet. “Look, I know damn well it’s all about every Sith for themselves these days. We all like to think we’re kriffing immortal. The _truth_ is we can’t afford to piss away an entire generation.”

He’s had enough time to think about why he did what he did. It had been a gut-feeling, no time for reflection in the heat of the moment, but Sar knew he had done the right thing. The only thing he could do. If that left him in a cell, so be it.

“A bloodline without an heir is dead and buried. So will our Empire be, if we’re not careful. We’re bleeding manpower left and right.” He returns Nox’ weighted look with a flat one of his own. “ _This_ would have been a hole of at least five years we’ll never close. Damn straight, I got our future out of the line of fire. They’ll be great one day. That day isn’t today and it sure as hell wasn’t last week, when the Void-spawned Hero of Tython came knocking.”

Their latest batch was all of a month into training and more likely to kill themselves with their blade than the enemy but they had potential. A blind man could see it, if he cared to look.

Every one of them was a chance that in the future, their Empire might gain a Sith like Nox.

It didn’t matter if Sar died for this. It would be worth it.

 

 


End file.
